


Being Not-Dead

by Fionn_Sgeul



Series: Liminal Spirits [2]
Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: (It's DP what do you expect), Character Kinda-Sorta Not-Death, Danny and co. are supportive and undermine her preconceptions, Gen, Halfa Valerie, Set before D-Stabilized, Timeline What Timeline, Valerie confronts her prejudices, Valerie continues her identity/vitality crisis, liminality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24852061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fionn_Sgeul/pseuds/Fionn_Sgeul
Summary: Valerie Gray has become the very thing that she's always hated -- or, well, half. She's a half-ghost, a liminal spirit, and it has turned her entire world upside-down.Phantom is Danny, and Danny is Phantom. Ghosts aren't the merciless, evil beings she thought they were, and weirdest of all, it's possible to exist in a statebetweenghost and human. What she thought was the clear black and white of good and evil has become a smeared palette of grey, and she has realised that she's way farther down the darker end than she is okay with being.Fortunately, Danny and his friends are turning out to be braver, kinder, and more forgiving that she'd ever given them credit for. Enough to not just forgive, but to take in someone like her. For the first time in her life, she has a chance at real, proper,truefriends.Now if she could just get her head straightened out enough to not spend her days teetering on the edge of explosion, life might possibly become awesome. ...Except, of course, that she still hasn't told her dad...
Relationships: Danny Fenton & Valerie Gray, Valerie Gray & Sam Manson
Series: Liminal Spirits [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1797910
Comments: 63
Kudos: 201





	1. Sam

**Author's Note:**

> This is the much requested sequel to "That Razor's Edge," though you probably don't need to read that one to understand what's going on here; all you need to know is that, the night before this fic starts, Valerie became a halfa and found out the truth about Danny. And it is REALLY messing with her head.
> 
> (Oh, and also I've messed with the timeline -- the kids are about sixteen or seventeen, but D-Stabilized hasn't happened yet, so Valerie knows nothing about Danielle, and only found out about Vlad the night before.)
> 
> The chapters of this story will focus on what happens when various people find out about Valerie and/or her new ghost form. Chapter One is Sam and Tucker, though mainly focusing on Sam, since she's the one who has issues to work out with Val. Chapter Two will be Jazz, with alarming guest appearances from the Fenton parents and their enthusiasm for hunting this mysterious new ghost, which Valerie could REALLY DO WITHOUT, THANK YOU.
> 
> After that, my list includes (but is not necessarily limited to) the students of Caspar High, the residents of Amity Park in general, maybe the other ghosts, Val's dad, maybe Danielle, and finally building up to Vlad.

Valerie had never been so terrified to enter a school building in her life.

She stood outside the front gate, trying to breathe deep and even as other students dashed past her, backpacks bouncing on their shoulders.

 _You're alive_ , she told herself. _You look fine. You can do this._

She didn't look fine. She knew that. Her face was haggard and exhausted, and she hadn't had the energy to do anything with her appearance. She'd just thrown on the first set of clean clothes she could lay her hands on and run a cursory brush through her hair. And, of course, her curls had reacted to being brushed by frizzing up into a terrific cloud around her head, because curly hair did that if you didn't take proper care of it.

Valerie couldn't bring herself to care.

She stood there, telling herself that she was going to be late if she didn't get a move on. But her feet stayed where they were. Oh god, she wanted to go home.

"Val?" said a voice behind her. She looked, and there was Danny, flanked by Sam and Tucker. Before she knew it, they had formed a little protective bubble around her, their faces full of concern.

She didn't even have to ask if he'd told them. She could see it in their faces. Her insides curdled briefly at being _pitied_ , but then that feeling gave way to sheer relief at not having to pretend to be fine.

"C'mon," said Danny, giving her a gentle nudge. "We'll stick with you. It'll be okay."

Valerie swallowed, nodded, and allowed them to guide her to class.

All four of them had first period together, English with Mr. Lancer. Valerie usually sat somewhere towards the back, but this time Danny led her to the desk in the back corner. He took the desk beside her, while Tucker settled himself at the one in front of her and Sam took the one diagonally.

Without a word between them, they'd set themselves up in a neat little semi-circle between her and the rest of the class. It made the urge to cry fight to escape the bottle Valerie had shoved it into that morning.

No. No, she could do this. She could do this.

A great swell of noise in the hall was the only warning she got before the rest of the class started pouring in, Mr. Lancer herding them and telling them not to loiter in the hallways. The usual daily chatter seemed unbearably loud, pressing in on Valerie, and she fought to keep her shoulders straight and not sink down into her chair.

As the students started to settle, Mr. Lancer ran an eye over the classroom. He paused for just a moment as he noticed Valerie's changed seating arrangement, one eyebrow ticking up, but he said nothing and soon called the class to order.

Valerie took a deep, steadying breath and told herself to Just Get Through It.

***

As the class dragged on, Valerie was aware of Danny keeping a subtle sideways eye on her from the desk beside her. It made the back of her neck prickle unpleasantly, and she would have snapped at him if she hadn't been so terrified to draw attention to herself.

But then her pencil somehow slipped out of her fingers, and she tried to pick it up again only to find that her arms had gone slightly transparent and her hands went straight through anything she tried to touch. They went right through her pencil and into the surface of her desk, and _she could feel things inside her fingers_. She jerked them back out and tried very hard not to panic.

Danny looked over at her, clocked her arms at once, and quickly scribbled something on a bit of paper. He carefully tilted up the paper so she could see it.

_Focus on touching the desk. Try to feel the wood grain._

Taking deep, steadying breaths, Valerie laid her transparent hands on the surface of the desk and tried to _feel_ it. The vague sense of _something_ under her hands wasn't enough; she needed to _touch_ it. She shut her eyes and imagined the feel of wood grain under her fingertips, running her finger along a groove…

Her hand knocked into her pencil, and she snatched it reflexively.

She opened her eyes. Her arms were clear and solid, the pencil held firmly between her fingers. Danny grinned approvingly at her and gave her a thumbs-up under his desk.

Valerie's shoulders slumped, and she took back all her earlier annoyance at him keeping an eye on her. She was _really_ glad he was there.

***

They made it through the rest of English class without further incident, right up until they were packing up their stuff to go. As Valerie stood, she tried to push herself up with her hand, which passed straight through her desk.

Her stomach swooped and she staggered forward, her hips and stomach passing _right through_ the desk — and she could _feel_ it inside her, this weird, uncomfortable pressure dragging at her guts.

She jerked up straight and away from the desk, looking around wildly, throat constricted with terror that someone had seen. But Danny, Sam, and Tucker were arrayed around her, casually screening her from view with their bodies and backpacks.

Danny touched her arm — his touch felt strange, cold instead of warm, and she noticed that his hand was slightly transparent. Reaching into the ether to be able to touch her. "Feel the ground under your feet," he whispered. "Breathe. Be _present_ in the world."

Valerie did. She breathed, and her body came suddenly into sharper focus. And not just visually; her physical sensations sharpened as well, and it was only then that she realised that they had been dulled.

She checked her hands. Solid and normal. She blew out a heavy sigh of silent _thank god,_ and then quickly grabbed her pack and binder to get the hell out of that classroom.

Out in the hall, she muttered, "Thanks," to all three of them.

Danny gave her a crooked smile, and Tucker shrugged and said, "Hey, no problem. We've been covering for Danny since forever."

Danny gave a little huff of wry laughter and said, "Yeah, no kidding. I never would have got through those first weeks undiscovered without these two looking out for me."

"We know the drill," said Sam, her mouth crimped with an ironic smile. "We have _protocols_ for this crap, from oops-I-made-my-head-invisible to Intangible Pants Syndrome."

Danny squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. "I lost my pants _once_."

"Uh, twice, dude," said Tucker. He waved his phone. "I have photographic evidence."

Danny swatted at him and waved a finger in his face. "The second time was entirely the Box Ghost's fault and _does not count_."

"I need to worry about losing my _clothes_?" said Valerie in horror, clutching at her jeans. _Great_ , just what she needed! To destroy the badass, untouchable reputation she'd built to replace her lost popularity! The cherry on top to make her miserable high school experience _even more perfect_!

Danny rushed to reassure her. "No, no, like I said, it only happened _once_ ," here he shot a fierce glare at Tucker before turning back to Valerie and lowering his voice, "and it can only happen if you're thinking of your clothes as something separate from you, rather than part of you. And it's a natural instinct for ghosts to include their clothes in their self-image and concept of themselves — so they're, like, _part_ of you. Just remember that and you'll be fine."

Yeah, fine, except now Valerie was going to be worrying about the existential nature of her clothes for the _rest of the goddamn day_.

"We better split if we're going to make it to class on time," said Sam, checking the time on her phone. "Val, you've got chem with me, right?"

Valerie scrambled through her schedule in her mind. The chaos in her head made normal, day-to-day things weirdly slippery and hard to hold onto. "Uh, yeah." She looked at Danny in sudden panic. "You don't?"

"Nah, I have history, and Tuck has math," said Danny. He saw the look on her face and grabbed her shoulder and squeezed gently. "Hey, don't worry; Sam will cover for you. She's awesome at it."

"You've given me more than enough practice," Sam said dryly. Then she met Valerie's eye. The two girls had never got on that well, due partly to each being preoccupied with hiding her own secrets and partly to their early rivalry over Danny. But they'd always respected each other, and Valerie had long felt that, if they could just find a way past the barriers between them, they could be friends.

"Just stick with me," said Sam. "I got you."

Valerie felt like some understanding had passed between them. She nodded and mumbled, "Thanks."

***

Chem class wasn't as bad as Valerie had feared. She and Sam managed to get partnered together for the lab, and Danny's advice was helping her get a better hold on her tangibility. She had no further full-body incidents, though her hands still slid out of phase a few times.

"Damn it," she whispered as she once again lost her grip on her pencil while trying to record the measurements Sam was making. Valerie bared her teeth in frustration. "I thought I was _getting_ it."

"Danny says the extremities are hardest to hold onto," said Sam, casually shifting sideways to block Valerie's hand from the view of as many people as possible. "He had loads of trouble with his feet. Tucker and I kept having to grab him to keep him from sinking into the floor."

Valerie flashed Sam a horrified look. "Oh, great," she said weakly. "More things that can go wrong."

Sam gave her a wry little grin. "Maybe keep an eye on your feet, 'cause the whole sinking-through-the-floor thing is hard to cover for. Though if it happens, our cover story is that you've got an inner ear problem that's messing with your balance, and I'm sticking close in case it acts up."

"Noted," said Valerie, reassured and a little amazed at _just how good_ these three were at cover stories. She wondered if they just always had a few in their back pockets, in case Danny had to take off or, like, just spontaneously evaporated or something.

They probably did. They had two years of experience hiding ghostly mishaps, after all. Like Sam had said, they had _protocols_ for this madness.

With all that in mind, she asked, "Got any other advice?"

Sam thought for barely a second. "Don't pick up the beakers. That's how Danny got his general ban on handling breakables."

Wow, yeah, good point. " _Also_ noted."

After that, they worked mostly in silence, snatching little glances at each other and trying to pretend that there wasn't a tension lurking beneath the surface.

Valerie, for her part, now totally got why Sam had had a problem with her before. Valerie had been a threat, and not just to Sam's relationship with the boy she liked, but to the boy _himself_. Valerie had been very literally out to get him.

But now all of that had changed. Valerie's whole world had done such an abrupt about-face that she felt like her stomach was missing. She was no longer any kind of threat to Danny. And as for Sam and Danny's relationship…

Sam and Danny had finally got over themselves and started going out just at the end of the last school year. Their relationship looked warm, deep, and solid, and Valerie had no desire to get in the middle of it and screw up the only good friendships she had.

And her feelings about Danny were way too confused anyway. He was her friend, she liked him, wanted to support him, but… The old anger and resentment for Phantom were still there, burning sluggishly even as she tried to put them out. He didn't deserve them; she needed to get past them. And she was trying, but years of feelings unfortunately do not vanish overnight, no matter how much you might want them to.

She'd spent so long thinking he was evil … thinking _ghosts_ were evil … thinking their minds were twisted and limited to nothing but violence and hate, and now she _was_ one and…

Valerie grabbed that line of thought and strangled it before it made her cry in chemistry class.

Sam, who apparently had ninja powers of sensing repressed internal turmoil (of course she did; her best friend was _Danny_ ), looked up sharply and muttered, "You okay?"

Valerie nodded to buy herself enough time to make sure her voice would be steady when she spoke. "Yeah, okay."

She even almost sounded like she meant it.

***

Valerie managed to hang on until the end of class, then she very definitely did not run to the nearest bathroom. She just walked _very quickly_.

She burst through the bathroom door and made a quick, cursory check that no one was in any of the stalls. Then she let her body go as transparent as it wanted as she slumped over one of the sinks and shook, swallowing the sobs as they crawled up her throat.

Sam's image appeared in the mirror, hovering over Valerie's transparent shoulder, her face tight with concern and anxiety.

Suddenly, the words burning behind Valerie's teeth came tumbling out.

"I died last night," she said, even though just thinking it made the world dizzy and surreal around her. "I died, and now everything's different."

"Death can do that," Sam said softly, compassion mixed with caution in her eyes.

"I need to start over," said Val. "Figure things out from scratch. And…" she sent a little nervous, quick glance up to meet Sam's eyes in the mirror. "I think I'm gonna need help."

Compassion won out over caution, and Sam smiled. "You got it."

Valerie shut her eyes and nodded, and then decided she needed to say everything else that was lurking in the wings. The air between her and Sam Manson needed to be cleared.

"I'm not going to get between you and Danny," she said. "What you've got is good, and I don't want to screw that up. And…" She took a shuddering breath. "He's the sweetest guy I know, and I hated to break up with him, but … I don't think our relationship ever could have worked. Especially not now."

(Actually, their relationship probably could have worked, if things had been different, if circumstance and Valerie's own flaws hadn't turned her against ghosts in general and him in particular. But there was no point dwelling on that, so Valerie very carefully didn't.)

Some of the tension went out of Sam's shoulders, and she gave Valerie a sad, sympathetic smile. "I think he probably got you better than anyone else, even _before_ —" she gestured vaguely to Valerie's transparent body, "—this."

Valerie thought about that, a bubble of realisation popping in her mind. Of course, they actually had a similar story, didn't they? Life upended by a ghost-related catastrophe, and then taking it upon themselves to protect their hometown. No wonder Phantom had always insisted he understood what she was doing, regardless of how she scorned him.

"Yeah," she agreed hoarsely. "He's a good friend."

"The best," said Sam, smiling.

Valerie took a deep breath and turned to face Sam. "I'm not going to pretend that I don't still have issues with … well, him being Phantom. I'm trying really, really hard not to; I know … I know the sort of person he really is, now. I know I was … wrong," and didn't it make her feel sick to realise it, "and he doesn't deserve any of it. He deserves so much better. But…"

"But it's been less than a day and adjusting your thinking is going to take some time," said Sam, tilting her head and smiling with gentle, painful understanding.

"Yeah," said Valerie in a voice that felt small and inadequate.

"That's okay," said Sam. "You're trying, you're going in the right direction, and that's what really counts."

Valerie smiled shyly. "Thanks."

Then she opened her mouth to ask Sam a question about Danny's coping strategies, but then something cold detonated in her lungs and rolled up her throat, and instead of words, a burst of mist came out of her mouth.

Valerie clapped her hand over her mouth, eyes wide. Sam stared back, and behind her, the door flew open and other girls came chattering into the room.

Sam reacted immediately, sweeping an arm around Valerie's shoulders and guiding her with swift, deliberate steps through the other girls and out the door before Valerie even had time to think about whether or not she was still transparent.

(She wasn't, fortunately. Just smoking out the mouth like she'd been vaping and _oh god_ she was in trouble if someone saw that…)

"What the hell is this?" Valerie asked Sam in a frantic whisper, wisps of mist escaping with every word.

"It's your ghost sense," Sam whispered back, mouth mere inches from Valerie's ear. "It means a ghost is near."

Valerie missed a step, her heart leaping into her throat. But her _suit's ghost detector hadn't gone off…_

…Oh right. Her suit was fried. Shit.

Sam kept her upright and moving, guiding her straight to a broom closet. With a practiced professionalism, Sam checked for witnesses without looking like that was what she was doing, then opened the door and led Valerie in with the air of someone who had every right to be there.

"What do we do?" Valerie demanded the second the door was closed. "My suit's fried. I can't—" Except … it wasn't fried in her ghost form, was it? It still worked like normal…

"Danny will take care of it," said Sam with the confidence of someone who had seen this a thousand times. Which, of course, she had. Valerie couldn't _believe_ she'd missed the pattern of Danny excusing himself every time a ghost attacked for _two freaking years_. Apparently, she'd been too damn busy worrying about her own excuses to notice anyone else's.

Tunnel vision. Sloppy. A hunter needed to pay better attention.

Sam was still talking. "He's probably out there already; the range of his ghost sense has seriously expanded over the last year, so it's probably bigger than yours." She looked at Valerie like she'd been struck with a sudden thought. "Hey, we're going to have to get you your own thermos."

A distant roar vibrated the mops and buckets around them. Someone shouted out in the hall, calling others to look. The fight was definitely on.

"I should help," Valerie muttered, to herself rather than Sam. And then, without her making any conscious decision to do so, her core released a pulse of energy that rolled through her. Instead of assembling itself around her, her suit was just suddenly _there_ , materialising over her skin. The pulse of her heart stopped, and gravity fell away, leaving her feeling feather-light.

 _"Whoa,"_ said Sam, leaning back. Then, when she saw Valerie starting to float up off the floor, her helmeted head looking up at the ceiling, Sam reached out a hand and said, "Uh, I wouldn't if I were you. It took Danny weeks to get a solid hold on changing forms. He kept randomly switching at awkward moments, and he turned back to human in the middle of a fight _twice_. Tucker and I had to save his ass."

That took the wind out of Valerie's sails. She didn't dare risk herself or her identity like that. She dropped back to the floor and retracted her helmet so she could give Sam an incredulous look. "How the hell did he not get found out?!"

"Pure dumb luck," said Sam, deadpan. She cocked her head and looked Valerie over, eyes lingering on the great poof of frizzy white hair, which, freed from the helmet, was now floating around Valerie's head like she was underwater. "Like the new look, by the way. I mean, usually I'm into black, but white and green is cool, and suitably ghostly."

Keeping an ear out for the distant sounds of the fight (it sounded vaguely like a very large ghostly monster was getting its ass handed to it), Valerie slumped back against the shelves with a groan, gratified when she didn't just pass right through them. "Not sold on it, personally. Makes me look too much like a candy-cane."

Sam raised an eyebrow and frowned. "I dunno, I think you need some red in there to really get a candy-cane vibe."

Valerie gave her a flat glare and lit up her right fist with red ectoplasm.

Sam's eyes widened. "Oh. _Oh_." Her face lit up with humour, which she then swiftly and tactfully grabbed and stuffed under the surface, pressing her lips together hard even as her eyes twinkled.

Valerie rolled her eyes. "Now you get it. Maybe I can get my head around being a ghost. But being the Candy-Cane Huntress is a step too far." She sank down the shelves to sit dejectedly on the floor, trying not to worry about her new form, her stupid colouring, when her dad would find out, whether Danny was all right out there…

…All right, time to strangle _all_ those thoughts, before she started crying in a broom cupboard in front of Sam Manson.

Sam flopped companionably down beside her and gave her suit another look-over. "Ghosts' forms are based partly on their self-image, aren't they?" she said. "Maybe if you just, like, wish it red hard enough, it'll change?"

Valerie leaned her head back against the hard edge of a shelf, considering. "Worth a try," she decided with a shrug.

…Hell, actually, if she could wish it back to its old colours, maybe she could stop anybody else even realising that something had happened to the Red Huntress. Maybe she could stop her _dad_ realising.

 _Definitely_ worth a try. Though maybe not in a broom cupboard when she was struggling not to fall apart into approximately three and a half million pieces.

Sam's phone chimed, and she pulled it out. "Danny got the ghost," she reported, which took a weight off Valerie's shoulders. "He wants to know if everything's okay with you."

Valerie snorted. " _I'm_ not the one who just fought some giant, roaring ghostly monster. But … I'm good. I mean, hiding in a closet in my—" her voice wobbled, "—my ghost form, but yeah. Fine."

Sam gave Valerie a quick, sharp look before tapping out her reply to Danny. "He's headed our way," she said. "He can track you in your ghost form, by the way, just so you know. And in your human form too, if he's close enough. You should be able to track him too once you get a bit more experience."

That … was equal parts creepy and useful. Being able to track Danny would be good, though. And being able to track other ghosts, even better. She made a mental note to prioritise that ability.

"We should get out of here if we want to actually get some lunch," said Sam. "Do you think you can safely hang on to your human form? I can bring you food here, if you can't."

Valerie stood, finding the motion weirdly effortless, like she weighed nothing. "I've managed okay so far," she said, and then changed back.

A sudden heaviness pressed down on her, her solid human body weighing her down. It was weird, disorienting, made her feel like moving should be harder than it actually was.

She made herself shake it off and followed Sam out of the closet. On their way out the door, Sam bumped her with her shoulder and, with a little sideways smile, said, "Glad you're on our side now, Val."

A bubble of warmth went off in Valerie's chest, and she found herself smiling. "Yeah. Me too."

…It sounded kinda nice, actually, to be part of a team instead of always going it alone.

***

Danny turned up none the worse after his battle with what he described as a giant goop monster from the Black Lagoon. It hadn't even managed to slime him, though the windows on the west wall of the school hadn't been so lucky. Nobody on that side of the building was going to be able to see out until somebody found some window-cleaners who could deal with ecto-contaminated swamp slime.

Which wouldn't be long. This was Amity Park. Half their cleaners _specialised_ in ectoplasmic slime.

Danny brushed off all concern for himself and instead asked after Valerie. Then he and his friends spent most of the lunch hour giving her pointers and trying to cheer her up by telling ridiculous stories about their many, _many_ ghostly shenanigans.

("You got stuck in your own thermos," Valerie said flatly, raising one eyebrow.

" _Jazz has terrible aim, okay?_ Seriously, _never_ give her the thermos when you're in the middle of a ghost fight.")

("There's a _hugging ghost?_ "

"Yeah. Klemper, the ice guy. How did you not know he has a thing for hugs?"

 _"I shoot them before they get close enough to hug me."_ )

("You got kidnapped to be the mortal bride of a dead medieval prince who can turn into a dragon, and instead convinced his sister to overthrow him, modernise their society, and bring in equal rights for women, and all before Danny and Tucker managed to get there to rescue you?"

Sam leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, and grinned the grin of a cat who still had canary feathers clinging to its whiskers. "Yep."

"…Holy shit. Sister, you got _game_."

They fist-bumped.)

The stories buoyed Valerie, giving her the energy to face the rest of the school day.

Which was a good thing, because they still had two classes to get through before they could escape.

Those two classes dragged on for Valerie. It was quite possibly the longest school day she had ever endured. But Sam, Danny, and Tucker stuck to her all through it. And when she had one of those classes alone with Tucker, he surprised her by not trying to tease or flirt with her once. He just sat beside her, a quiet, reassuring presence, nudging her to call her attention back whenever her mind started to wander back into dangerous spirals.

It was good to have friends. Valerie was sure she wouldn't have got through the day without them.

When it was all over and the bell rang, they all took off like it had signalled the start of a race. As soon as they were out of the building, Valerie felt like some oppressive shadow had been lifted off her shoulders, like she could finally breathe. The sun was shining, the breeze was warm, and dear god she was _out_ of there, _finally._

Danny bounced out ahead of them and beckoned. "C'mon," he said. "Let's go to the park."

The allure of the quiet solitude to be found among the trees of the park was more than any of them could resist — they had so many things to talk about, and all of them required being _away from people_. So they took off running, Danny in the lead, and they didn't stop until they were hidden amongst the cool shadows of the trees, safely screened from the view of prying eyes.

Valerie dropped to the ground under a tree with a loud groan and buried her face in the grass. "This has been the most exhausting day of my entire life."

Tucker dropped beside her and patted her shoulder. "Hey, look at the bright side."

Valerie raised her head just enough to glare at him with one eye. "There's a bright side?"

He grinned a wicked grin. "At least you didn't lose your pants."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valerie tries to reshape her ghost form to look like her old suit. The attempt goes ... a bit wrong.
> 
> She proceeds to freak out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so, this chapter took a while. I've been adding to it in little fits and starts for months, with whatever scraps of creativity I have left over from my ACTUAL WORK writing projects.
> 
> It ran a lot longer than I meant it to, and if I had time to do second and third drafts (y'know, like writers are supposed to), I would probably trim it. But what the hell -- this isn't supposed to be great art.

Damon Gray was worried about his daughter.

…Admittedly, that statement was true pretty much every day of the year, given her dangerous choice of extracurricular activities. After several attempts to talk her out of it and even flat out forbid her from ghost-hunting, Damon had finally given in and tried to learn to live with a constant level of background worry. The only thing that made it tolerable was that he had got Valerie’s promise to never again lie to him about it, and to keep him informed of her activities.

Which was exactly why, today, Damon was more worried than usual. Because Valerie, keeping her promise, had left two texts on his phone last night, announcing her departure and return from a ghost hunt. That in itself wasn't unusual. Valerie often got an alert and slipped out after he was asleep, leaving him texts for when he woke. She was rarely gone longer than half an hour.

But this time, the timestamps on the messages told him that she had been out for more than four hours, not returning until well after midnight. And on a school night, besides.

That was not like Valerie. She treasured a full night's sleep.

So Damon's background-worry level had already ticked up a notch. It increased again when he realised that he had to get out of the house _now_ to get to work — they had a huge project on today, completely restructuring the security systems and installing new equipment. Damon needed to be there early, and in all likelihood would be kept there late, to make sure everything was working before he left for the night.

Which all meant that he had no time to check in with Valerie and make sure she was all right — no time to do anything but stick his head into her room and see that she was there, sprawled in bed and sleeping the sleep of the truly exhausted.

Not surprising, considering how late she'd been up. Damon just hoped her alarm woke her in enough time to be ready for school. He didn't have the heart to disturb her this early just for his own peace of mind.

So he rushed off to work. He got stuck into engineering problems and logistics, his worry pushed to the back of his mind until one of his co-workers mentioned "that whopper of a ghost fight last night."

Damon's head jerked up, his fingers dropping the pencil he was using to make notes on the blueprint in front of him. "What?"

His co-worker, Jim, turned to include Damon in the conversation, swirling his coffee in his cup. "Yeah, out at the edge of town, fortunately, by that old, abandoned factory. Levelled one of the warehouses, apparently. Must have been a hell of a dangerous ghost."

Damon straightened and turned to Jim, trying not to sound too urgent when he asked, "What happened?"

Jim shrugged. "Phantom won, I guess, since the other guy isn't still wreaking havoc. 'Least they kept it out of the populated areas this time. I think that warehouse was even slated for demolition anyway, so in a weird way, they maybe even kinda did someone a favour. All's well that ends well, I guess."

Damon nodded and mumbled agreement with everyone else in the room, his heart twisting in his chest. Dear _god_ , Valerie, what did you get into this time…

On his next break, he looked up the news reports. The Amity Park news station maintained a page especially for ghost attacks, and sure enough, it had what he was looking for.

The battle had been a big one. The news reports didn't have a whole lot of information, as apparently there hadn't been much to see, what with the combatants being mostly invisible or obscured by storm clouds. But the property damage had been extensive.

Fortunately, as Jim had said, the fight had taken place out on the edge of town, in the derelict remains of what had once been Amity Park's manufacturing district, before the factories had shut down and the town's industries had shifted. The damaged buildings had all been disused, some condemned.

A handful of witnesses and some pretty poor cell phone footage reported that the combatants were Phantom, an unknown and alarmingly powerful weather ghost, and also possibly the Red Huntress, though the witness admitted he hadn't got a good enough look to be sure.

Phantom had apparently emerged victorious once again, as he had been briefly spotted at some point after the fight, but, as Jim had said, an old, abandoned warehouse had been completely levelled.

That … sounded like exactly the sort of scrap Damon didn't want his girl anywhere _near_. The thought that she had been there made icy fingers run over his skin and his stomach twist itself into a queasy ball.

He had to resist the urge to call her straight away. She would be in school. And anyway, she had clearly made it back okay, because he'd seen her, and she'd texted him. He was so glad he'd insisted on that rule.

Tonight. He would talk to her tonight, if he wasn't home so late that she'd already gone to bed. And since that was entirely too long to wait, he'd text her once school was out.

He kept an eye on the clock, and as soon as he could after school let out, he texted Valerie: _Everything ok last night? Looks like it was a big one_.

It was a couple of anxious minutes before his phone pinged with a reply. _Ugh. Didn't get much sleep,_ she said, then followed it up with: _Feel like crap. School sucks._

Damon smiled to himself, his background worry dropping a few notches. He considered suggesting that she not stay out so late next time, if that's how she felt, but then decided that it would only get Valerie's back up. Instead, he texted: _Early night tonight, then?_ 😊

 _Prbly not a bad idea,_ she replied, and he sighed in relief that she was taking advice. _You working late tonight?_

 _Looks like_ , he replied. _Some of these idiots couldn't find their own ass if you gave them a map. Dunno when I'll get home_.

 _Might be in bed when you get back,_ she replied. _Don't worry if I am_.

He wanted to say, _I always worry_ , but that wouldn't please Valerie. So instead, he just said, _Ok. Hope you have a better night tonight._

 _Me too,_ she replied. And then, unexpectedly, _Love you._

His eyebrows shot up. He knew she did, but Valerie didn't often say it. It made mixed feelings swirl in his chest. On the one hand, it always warmed his heart to hear it. But … what had made her say it?

Instinct told him that something the night before had given Valerie a bad scare. He really wanted to ask what. Instead, he said, _Love you too, sweetie <3 _

When he could, he'd talk to her about it. Tonight or tomorrow. Until then … he'd put it out of his mind. Or try to.

***

Valerie sat at her desk in her room, staring at her hands as they faded in and out from transparency to solidity.

An afternoon of practicing with Danny had made her much more aware of the subtle sensations that went along with invisibility and intangibility — a slight tingling, a coolness in her flesh. And knowing what it felt like had helped her a lot with getting control … or at least noticing when it was getting _out_ of control.

Of course, she thought grimly, all it would take was a good distraction, something that took her mind completely off herself, and she'd go and disappear in the middle of English class. She had _so far to go_ in getting a handle on all this.

For the thirty-sixth time since last night, she wondered how the hell Danny had survived this ridiculous learning curve with his secret intact.

Looking up at the mirror that hung over her desk, she tugged on the cold spot in her chest. The transformation washed over her, covering her with the new white-and-green version of her suit. Her helmet immediately felt restrictive — reminded her of being trapped under the debris of the warehouse — and she jabbed the button to retract it.

And then she made the mistake of trying to suck in a reassuring breath of free air, only to be forcibly reminded that this form _didn't breathe_.

She put her head down on her desk until the bubble of panic in her chest eased. This was fine … this was okay … she was okay.

Just maybe a little traumatised. But she could deal with it. She could.

But man, she hoped the helmet thing wasn't going to become a long-term problem. Because maintaining a secret identity made things like masks and helmets kind of important.

(Never mind that Danny had apparently managed completely mask-less for two years, because Danny, as previously noted, was _stupidly lucky_.)

Pulling herself together, she sat up and glared at her reflection. A great poof of frizzy, drifting white hair; ethereal, honey-gold skin; and glowing red eyes that were frankly more than a little freaky. Valerie had seen a whole spectrum of colour in ghost eyes, but red had always felt the most malevolent.

She really, _really_ could have done without it as her own colour. It looked like the eyes of a demon peering out through the face of an angel. Why couldn't she have had gold? Or maybe green, like Danny?

She shut her eyes and shook her head. It was her suit that she needed to worry about now. The rest could come later.

Right. Time to try this.

When she'd asked Danny about changing the appearance of your ghost form, he had been uncertain.

"I mean, I've never done it," he had said. "But I've never tried. And Vlad obviously did it, because there's no way he died dressed like a vampire in a freaking _cape_. So liminal spirits must be _able_ to do it … I just, uh, don't really know how."

Their best guess was that maybe some kind of deep visualisation exercise might work. So Valerie squeezed her eyes tight shut and remembered her suit's previous colours. She pictured them as strongly as she could and told herself that _that_ was her, _that_ was what she looked like. Black with red. Her colours were black with red.

 _Just look like you did before,_ she tried to tell her suit. _C'mon, please._

She opened her eyes.

She clapped a hand over her mouth to hold in a screech. Her whole body had turned absolute pitch, empty black — like a person-shaped hole in the universe, utterly featureless except for two flat red eyes that glowed like burning coals.

Valerie threw herself back away from the mirror. She passed straight through her chair and lost her orientation with the floor, her room spinning dizzyingly around her. She grabbed for the foot of her bed and tugged desperately on the point of warmth in her chest.

The transformation washed over her, gravity finding her again and wrapping its fingers around her, and she immediately face-planted into the foot of her bed.

She sat there for a minute, clutching the edge of her mattress in a death grip, face buried in the covers. Then she dared to raise her head and look.

Her arms and legs looked normal.

Tentatively, she returned to the mirror. Black hair, brown skin — normal Valerie. She took a deep, shuddering breath and told her heart to slow down.

It took her a few minutes of standing there staring at herself to get her nerve up to tug on that point of coldness in her chest again. She shut her eyes as the transformation pulsed through her, too afraid of what she might see.

She flexed her hands. Definitely wearing the suit. She hit the button to retract the helmet and opened her eyes to meet her reflection.

Several emotions rushed through her. The first was staggering relief to not see a black demon staring back at her. The second was a little stab of annoyance to see once again that damn white-and-green suit. And the third … the third was confusion slowly dawning into horror as she realised that her skin and hair had again changed colour.

Her skin had turned a dull, demonic, reddish colour, and her hair was blacker than black, a black hole of black. And her eyes were still gleaming, glowing red.

She moaned, staring at the mirror. What was this? What the hell was this?

Was this her true colours showing through? Had the angelic appearance she'd started with just been one last attempt to hide from herself — a thin veneer of self-delusion over a rotten core?

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no," she mumbled, shying away from the mirror and stumbling unseeing straight through her chair.

Within herself, she reached out for her human form, grabbed it, and turned herself back. Then she staggered over and dropped onto her bed, hugging herself.

She lay there for maybe half an hour, mind chasing itself in frightened circles, before she finally rolled over, reached out an arm, and groped on her bedside table for her charging phone.

She pulled her phone close and curled around it, typing out a text to Danny.

_Can we talk?_

And then, deciding after a moment's anxious indecision that it was too vague, added, _Now?_

His reply came within seconds: _2 min_.

Valerie, her hands clenched and cold around her phone, counted out one minute and thirty-seven seconds before it lit up with Danny's call — which somehow made her jerk with surprise even though her entire being had been bent around waiting for it. She answered it.

"Val? What's wrong?" Danny's voice asked urgently, its eerie, echoing quality telling her he was currently Phantom.

"My ghost form turned into a demon," she blurted.

A pause. "…Say what?"

"My ghost form. I tried to change it, like we talked about. And it went all demonic and horrible and _evil_." She had to stop there, because all her bottled emotion was escaping and trying to claw its way up her throat, making her voice start to wobble.

"Oh… That's … uh … huh." From the baffled, off-balance tone of Danny's voice, Valerie guessed that this was very much not the sort of problem he had been expecting.

(She was right; Danny had been expecting the sort of problem you could punch.)

"So … this is like a self-image thing," he said slowly.

"Self-image?!" Valerie yelped at him. "I'm losing control! I'm turning evil! Like Masters!"

"Whoa, no!" said Danny, alarmed. "I don't think that's what's going on at all. Look, last night you turned into something that you have hated and fought against for _years_ , something you always thought was evil. And then you found out that thing _isn't_ actually evil and maybe you were wrong to be hating it so much. That's _got_ to be messing with your head, like, big time.

"And for ghosts, our appearance is based on self-image, yeah, but _subconscious_ self-image. It's about how you see yourself deep down, I think — not, like, on the surface. Which…" the tone of his voice turned thoughtful and unfocused, "probably says something important about Vlad, now I think of it. Huh. I should talk to Jazz about that."

His voice strengthened and refocused. "Actually, _you_ should talk to Jazz about this. She's big into psychology and psychiatry and all that, and she's taken a special interest in the psyche of ghosts — for, uh, obvious reasons. She's been doing a kind of unofficial counselling sessions with a few of my ghost friends; they help her understand how ghosts' minds work while she helps them through their issues. So, y'know, if anyone could help you figure out what's going on with you…"

Valerie didn't respond immediately because she was a little busy being floored by this new piece of information. "Your sister does counselling sessions with ghosts," she said flatly.

"Uh, yeah."

A pause. "Wow. Okay." She thought that over. The Fenton parents DEFINITELY did not know. "I would say your parents would freak, but that feels like a pathetic understatement."

"Oh, they would _explode_ ," said Danny, sounding far too cheerful at the prospect. "And then salivate maniacally over all her data. And then we would watch them be all conflicted over whether to be upset with her for taking risks or delighted that she's finally taking an interest in their passion. I think we could eventually talk them into being happy about it, though, because she is _good_ , and she knows what she's doing.

"So will you talk to her?" Danny asked, a note of worried hope in his voice.

Valerie took a long, slow breath and made her decision. She'd always liked Jazz, in the few chances she'd got to meet her. "All right. I'll talk to her."

***

That night, Valerie didn't think she could possibly sleep. Her heart felt tight and tense in her chest, her insides wound into knots. But when she heard her father come home sometime around ten, she quickly turned out her lights and jumped into bed.

She found, as soon as the lights were out, that they made very little difference to how well she could see. The darkness should have been impenetrable, but instead, a dim, colourless version of her room surrounded her. She could clearly make out every object, despite the almost total lack of light sources.

Great, now even her normal form had supernatural vision. The fact made her feel even less human.

She heard her father putting away his coat and keys and come into the hallway. He was headed this way. She dived under the covers and did a creditable job of pretending to be asleep when the handle of her door quietly turned and a strip of light fell briefly across her room.

Her father poked his nose in just far enough to be sure that she was there, safely tucked up in bed, and then withdrew.

When he was gone, Valerie fisted her hands in her blankets and buried her face in her pillow, hiding from her freakish night-vision. She would have to face her dad sooner or later, but not yet … not yet.

Damn it, she couldn't take this. She couldn't do this. She was so exhausted. She'd only slept about four hours the night before, and that was after _last night_ — the deadly battle and the greatest emotional trauma of her entire life. And then today had been probably the longest and most stressful day she'd ever had, even including the day her mother died.

To put it bluntly, even when you're way too wound up to sleep, there's a point where total and complete exhaustion shoves it all out of the way and just takes over. And Valerie had just passed that point.

She slept till dawn.

***

The next day was, thank all things holy, Saturday. No school.

Valerie slipped out of the house before her father was up, leaving him a note on the kitchen counter that she was meeting up with a friend. Which was very nearly the truth. She and Jazz didn't really know each other well enough to call each other "friend," but, well … close enough.

Danny had texted her the night before with Jazz's number and a time and place for Valerie to meet her: by the fountain in the park, 10:00. Getting out of the house before her dad was up made Valerie seriously early, but she just settled herself on a bench, bundled up in a scarf and heavy jacket against the autumn morning chill, and slowly worked her way through the energy bar that was serving as her breakfast.

It wasn't a great breakfast. But she hadn't dared stop to eat on the way out of the house, so.

Interestingly, she'd noticed that she didn't seem to have any troubles staying solid and visible while she was eating. Maybe it was because eating was a strictly "living" activity, it helped keep her on that side of the coin.

Whatever the reason, it was useful. She made her energy bar last as long as she could, so she didn't have to worry. Not that there was anyone around yet, but … still. She was out in the open.

Once the energy bar was gone, she shut her eyes and tried to meditate, focusing on the things Danny had told her to keep control. He was pretty good at giving advice and instructions, she thought in a sudden, abstracted moment. He'd probably make a good teacher.

She was still meditating when Jazz showed up, nearly half an hour early herself.

"I had a feeling you might already be here," said Jazz with a smile. She too was bundled up — she wore gloves and a puffy blue jacket with a fluffy hood. Her bright red hair pulled into a braid on one side of her head.

Valerie responded with what was probably a pretty strained smile of her own. "Uh, yeah. Wanted to get out of the house."

"Before your dad woke up," Jazz said knowingly, sitting on the bench beside her. "Yeah, I get it. That's not a conversation I'd want to have either."

Valerie curled in on herself, hugging herself. "How long have you known about Danny?" she asked quietly, not looking directly at Jazz.

Jazz smiled. "Since just a couple months after it happened. He didn't actually realise I knew for a few months after that; I wanted to let him tell me himself, when he was ready, but…" She smiled wryly. "Well, circumstances ended up forcing our hands."

Valerie tried to swallow her nerves and misgivings before making herself ask her next question. "How do you … feel about it?"

Jazz gave her a shrewd look. "About him being what he is? …Well, honestly, I was kinda freaked out at first. I thought my little brother was dead, and using some shapeshifting power to pretend to still be alive. This was during the whole Spectra-as-school-counselor mess, if you remember," she added as an aside. "So I had just found out that ghosts pretending to be living people was a totally possible thing."

Wearing a thoughtful frown, Jazz leaned her head back to stare up at the sky. "The idea scared me a lot, but I didn't know what to think. And I didn't know how he'd react if I confronted him about it. So I decided to conduct a clandestine investigation."

She canted a sideways grin at Valerie. "And by 'clandestine investigation,' I mean I ambushed him with hugs. Which he did not like, or at least pretended not to because he's a teenaged boy. But it was enough to prove that he was solid, warm, and had a pulse. And he obviously still ate and slept. So I concluded that he was at least kinda alive … but somehow was also a ghost."

Jazz sank lower on the bench, still looking up. "I considered confronting him again then, but I was still afraid of how he would react, that he might panic and take off — because of Mom and Dad, you know — and I still wasn't sure exactly what was going on with him and how deeply it was affecting him. So I decided to keep watching a while longer, while at the same time secretly covering for him with Mom and Dad."

She shrugged. "By the time the truth finally came out between us, I had reassured myself that Danny was still Danny. I was still worried about some things, but now that we've confirmed that he's still growing and maturing as normal, and that being a liminal spirit isn't going to rob him of his chance to grow up and find out who he really is…" she turned a gentle smile on Valerie, "…I'm fine with it. It's just another way my little brother is special."

Valerie said nothing. She was chewing over Jazz's words and wondering whether her father would react the same way. It seemed too much to hope for. Her dad was protective of her, and this was … well, not _exactly_ the sort of thing that he had always been afraid her ghost-hunting would lead to, but … close enough.

"You're scared of how your dad will take it," said Jazz, as if reading Valerie's mind.

Valerie made a harsh noise comprised of buried fear and frustration brushing the surface. "Of course I am. So is Danny. It's been _two years_ , and he still hasn't told your parents."

Jazz winced. "Well, no, but our parents are … _our parents._ " And she made a wide gesture that somehow encompassed alarming ghost-centred obsessions, underground mad scientist labs, and lunatic portals to another dimension unwisely placed _under their own house_.

"I may not approve of his decision not to tell them, but I _completely_ understand it. But your dad is a lot more, uh…" she grimaced. "Let's call it reliable."

Valerie shook her head — not to disagree that her dad was reliable, because he was, but just in general objection. "He will _freak_. He's been afraid all along that my ghost hunting would get me killed. And now it … kind of has." She paused to swallow hard, made sure her voice would stay steady. "And I can't just keep it secret like Danny has, because I _promised_ him I wouldn't lie to him anymore."

That made Jazz sit up straight. "You did? Promised?"

Slouching forward with her elbows on her knees and staring disconsolately at the gravel path, Valerie nodded.

"Oh," said Jazz in a serious voice. "That … pretty much settles it, then. 'Cause breaking trust like that, when it's been broken once before … that's bad. That's … really hard to fix."

"I _know_ ," said Valerie, voice harsh with her own stress and fear.

Neither of them said anything for a minute. Then Jazz asked, "What have you told him so far?"

Valerie shrugged. "We haven't actually talked since it happened. He's been working crazy hours on a big project, and I've … been avoiding him. We've only texted. He knows I was in a big fight and that it was pretty bad, but…" her voice wobbled, "he thinks I'm okay."

Jazz said nothing for a moment, biting her lip anxiously. But then her face hardened with determination, and she placed a warm hand on Valerie's knee. "You _will be_ okay, Valerie. I promise you that. It's going to take time, and you're going to have a lot to work through, but eventually you will find a new normal, and things will be okay." She squeezed gently. "And Danny and I will be here for you every step of the way. Whatever you need."

Valerie took a few deep breaths, pushing the hot, roiling emotion back down her throat and into its box. She made herself believe Jazz was right. Because she had to. She had to get through this, figure things out, make everything okay again. There was no other option.

"Thanks," she said thickly, and Jazz smiled at her and released her knee. The absence of her hand made Valerie feel chilled.

In a more business-like tone, Jazz said, "So we're agreed you need to tell your dad ASAP?"

Valerie swallowed, her hands clenching and unclenching as a sick feeling twisted her stomach. "Yeah. Just … how the hell do I tell him?"

"Tell him what happened," Jazz said simply. "Start with the fight and go from there. But, uh, skip the part where you and Danny thought you were all dead for a while. Just jump straight to the part where he recognised you for what you really are. And…" she hesitated a moment, looking awkward, "if you could maybe avoid mentioning Phantom's true identity?" she said, then added in a rush, "Just until we know for sure your dad won't tell anyone."

Valerie blinked up at her in confusion. "Who would he tell?"

Jazz grimaced and said dryly, "Well, I could see him calling our parents for advice, for one. Which would be several kinds of not-good."

"Oh." Yes, Valerie could see that getting complicated fast. Crap. She was going to need to play this carefully, yet with enough confidence that her father wouldn't feel like he needed to go and seek a second opinion.

She would need to sound like she knew what she was talking about. And she really wasn't sure she did.

"How do I convince him?" she asked, a little desperately. "How can I prove to him that I'm really … liminal and not just dead or … or crazy?"

Jazz bit her lip, frowning. "Well, ghosts can't fake a pulse — or at least none we've met can — so there's your proof that you're alive. For the other half of it … you'll probably have to show him."

Valerie shook her head violently. "I can't let him see my ghost form! It looks like a monster!"

Jazz winced. "Ah. Right. Danny mentioned you were having a little problem with that."

 _"A little problem?!"_ A lump of hysteria in her throat made her voice rise, and Valerie clamped down on it to keep from attracting the attention of the jogger and two dog-walkers in the vicinity.

Jazz glanced at them too and leaned in close. "Valerie, it's okay, really," she said, eyes big and earnest. "From what I've learned from other ghosts, an appearance crisis is a pretty normal thing for a young ghost to go through. Usually not quite _this_ early, I think, but … it's common. I've been half-expecting Danny to get hit with one sooner or later, but so far his ghost form hasn't proven very malleable appearance-wise. He might grow into it later."

Valerie stared at her. "What are you saying, this is some kind of standard ghostly identity crisis?"

Jazz nodded. "Not quite standard, but pretty common. See, a ghost's outward appearance is based mainly on their self-perception. And when you change from a human into something else … well, your self-perception can go through a pretty radical change. You can end up looking completely different from how you did in life, which, when you're already going through the shock of death, can be a hard thing to take. So … yeah, freaking out about it is pretty common for new ghosts."

She leaned over to look Valerie straight in the eye. "But you're still _you,_ Valerie. This is just your appearance changing, not _you_." She poked Valerie in the chest, right over her heart. "Valerie Gray is still Valerie Gray, and she is not going to suddenly stop knowing the difference between right and wrong just because she has ectoplasm in her veins. Got it?"

Valerie swallowed and nodded. "Got it," she said weakly.

Jazz sat back. "And I think remembering that is going to be the secret behind getting your appearance back under control, too. Focussing on that, immersing yourself in it … well, it should help you get your ghost form back to default, anyway."

Valerie clenched her fists, the familiar old staunch determination raising its head in her chest. "Okay. Okay, I can try that."

There was a pause while Valerie glanced around and remembered they were in a park with people around and trying it _here and now_ would probably be a bad idea.

She bounced to her feet, hands twitching with nervous energy. Jazz stood up beside her and scanned the area. They weren't far from the trees.

"The woods?" she suggested.

"The woods," Valerie agreed.

***

Once they were safely out of sight of nosey passers-by, Jazz led Valerie in a meditation exercise, centring herself and getting her to focus on her identity and sense of self. Then, she triggered the transformation.

Her insides tied in a knot of anxiety, Valerie retracted her suit.

"Wow," said Jazz. "You look … pretty cool, actually."

Valerie dared to open her eyes and look down. She saw just what she'd seen that first night: blue and purple clothes and honey-gold skin. She whipped a hand back to grab some hair — in her fingers, it felt almost as much like a cloud as it felt like hair, cool and not quite substantial. She pulled it forward.

It was white.

Her shoulders slumped with heavy, numbing relief. Which quickly turned surreal when she realised that she was _relieved_ that her hair was _white_.

"It worked, then?" said Jazz, examining Valerie with bright fascination.

"Yeah," said Valerie. "I look—" She broke off with no idea how to finish that sentence. Because it wasn't "normal," and it wasn't "right," but … it was sure as hell better than she'd looked last night.

Nothing like being presented with something worse to suddenly make you feel not quite so badly about what you've got.

Jazz clapped her hands together. "Awesome! That means you're getting a handle on it!" She cocked her head, thoughtful. "I think you definitely have more shapeshifting talent than Danny. It'll be interesting to see what you can do with it, once it's developed."

Valerie's shoulders hunched at the thought. The idea of changing her appearance again was scary. She felt like her body might run entirely out of her control and turn into all kinds of monsters. "Um, yeah," she mumbled. "Don't think I'm ready for that."

Jazz's eyes widened as she realised her misstep. "Oh, of course not yet! No, no, you need to adjust first. And…" She hesitated, as if not sure if she should say what she wanted to say. Then her brow furrowed, and she went for it. "I think … that what's really standing in your way is that you need to accept yourself, to know _who_ and _what_ you really are, before you'll have real control of this ability."

Valerie's first reaction was a burst of hot rage that made her teeth and fists clench. 

"I don't _want_ to accept it!" she spat. "I don't— I don't _want_ this!" She waved her fists in the air, trying to keep the scream of frustration trapped in her throat, where it couldn't cause any harm.

Jazz flinched, but then caught herself and steadied. She took a step towards Valerie, her face grave. "Would you rather be dead?"

The question caught Valerie like a punch to gut. "I—" _am dead, that's the problem_ , she wanted to say. But she wasn't, not really.

"Because that was the other option," Jazz continued. "You could have been a full ghost, unable to ever go home. Or you could have just been … gone, forever, leaving your father to grieve. Would that have been better?"

"You _know_ it wouldn't," Valerie snapped, staring down at her clenched fists. "I know it could have been worse, okay?! I _know_. But…" She gritted her teeth and fought to hold back tears. "This _isn't what I wanted_."

Jazz's voice went soft and emotional, wobbling just slightly. "I know. Believe me, I _know_." And Valerie looked up into her eyes and saw tears there.

And the next thing Valerie knew, Jazz had scooped her up into a hug. Valerie was so startled that at first she didn't react. Then, slowly, she raised her arms, running them up Jazz's back, her attention caught by the strange sensations it caused in her ghostly limbs. The contact caused a sort of buzz in her skin, like she was hugging something that thrummed with … something.

Life, probably.

The tears spilled over, and Valerie hugged Jazz back. "I didn't want this," she whispered.

"I know," Jazz murmured back. "It isn't what any of us wanted. But … it's better than the alternative."

Moments slipped past while they stood there, and Valerie felt like she should probably be pulling away. But physical comfort was apparently something she'd been in absolutely desperate need of, because she'd never been more reluctant to pull out of a hug in her life.

"All I wanted was to turn my suit colours back," she mumbled, voice shivering, "so people wouldn't know."

Jazz squeezed her. "I know. It was a good idea. But you might not be ready to make it work."

They stayed there a few more seconds, and then Valerie finally made herself pull away. "What am I gonna do?" she asked.

"Tell your dad," Jazz said simply. "That's definitely step one."

Damnit, Valerie was not looking forward to that conversation. She grimaced. "But what's step two?"

Jazz heaved a sigh and fiddled with her braid, looking off into space. "Step two is figuring out what the hell to do about Vlad. Because he is the one who is going to find you out. Even if you do pull off the suit colour change, there will be other signs, and he is going to see through you sooner rather than later."

A chill went up Valerie's spine. Her former employer's name was getting more frightening every time Danny and the others brought it up. "What will he do?"

Jazz grimaced. "Nothing good. Try to win, threaten, or coerce you over to his side, probably. Try to play you and Danny off each other in new and interesting ways. But he won't try to expose you. He'll lose more than you will if that happens."

Cold comfort. Valerie could already think of way too many possibilities for "coerce." Most of them involved her dad.

"But Val, when that time comes, you won't have to face him alone."

Valerie looked up at Jazz to find the other girl giving her an intense, earnest look that reminded Valerie suddenly and disconcertingly of Danny.

"You have backup now," Jazz told her. "Vlad can't take on any one of us without taking on _all_ of us. And we've proved more than a match for him before."

Valerie's throat constricted. That was actually more reassuring than she would have thought. "That's … really good to know," she mumbled, unable to put better words to the confusing mass of emotions inside her. Then she looked at her watch and tried to pull herself together. "I should go. My dad will worry if I'm gone too long."

Jazz nodded. "I know you don't wanna hear this again, but … tell him. The longer you leave it, the worse it gets."

Valerie groaned and dragged her hands over her face. "I know, I know. I'll do it as soon as I get home." And if she took a little detour before she got there, nobody had to know.

"If you need backup or moral support, just call," said Jazz. "Danny and I will be hanging out with our phones, and he can get us to your place fast. We want to know how it goes."

Valerie nodded, glad to have that to resort to if things went bad. "Okay, I will." And then, awkward but sincere, "Thanks Jazz, really."

The smile Jazz gave her was warm. "No problem. You need someone to talk to, you call me anytime. Day or night."

They both turned to go, and then Jazz exclaimed, "Oh, hey, I almost forgot!" She took her bag off her shoulder and dug through it, producing a silvery thermos that she tossed to Valerie. "Danny asked me to bring you this. Your very own Fenton Thermos!"

Valerie caught it, recognising the weird soup-thermos ghost-catching capsule that Phantom always carried. Figured it was a Fenton design.

"Just take off the lid, point it at a ghost, and press the button," said Jazz.

With a nice, familiar piece of ghost-hunting equipment back in her hands, Valerie found herself beginning to smile. This, now, this was her speed. "Thanks," she said.

"No problem!" said Jazz, turning to head home. Then, over her shoulder, she tossed, "Just be careful you don't catch your _self_!" And she ran off.

Valerie rolled her eyes. As if she'd be that clumsy.

Then it occurred to her that she could absolutely see _Danny_ being that clumsy. And therefore Jazz might have given her that warning for a _reason_.

Hmm. Danny would never tell her. She'd have to ask Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure I got the idea of Jazz doing counselling sessions with ghosts from someone else, but I can't remember who. Anyway, that's all for now, and the next chapter will probably be a while, because the new school year is starting and I've got a bunch of classes to get running and lessons and exercises to write. (I teach Scottish Gaelic to adults.) Be safe, everyone!


End file.
